Table Art
by Dinette
Summary: One last fic. Some memories just take longer to erase. Especially those written in permanent ink.


My last one and now I'm done. Enjoy and goodbye, darling ffn.net/catergoryid=801

For Jeano 'cause she's the coolest.

**Table Art**

A crow pecked at the window. And then suddenly flapped away, spreading its coal wings and cawing. Sato Ichiro idly stared out of his window, wishing he, too, could fly away. He occupied one of the best seats in the class, one of the back ones. As far away from the teacher as possible. He'd have gotten the very back one, too, if only idiot Yamamoto hadn't grabbed it first.

High school wasn't much different from Junior High, in his opinion. Just as boring. His fingers began to drum a slow tattoo on the blue table, and he absent mindedly whistled a tune.

An acid voice interrupted as the teacher's face suddenly appeared in front of him. Intact with a throbbing vein. He sat up, trying (not really) to pay some attention, but even the table was more attractive than his teacher.

The table. He'd never really noticed it before. There was a strict rule prohibiting graffiti, and in most cases, it was usually adhered to. His table, on the other hand, was carved with all sorts of fantastic carvings and words. He lifted one finger, and traced along the word in the corner, "Ore wa Tensai", and raised a slightly dusty finger.

He shifted elbows and grinned, wondering what kind of egoistic fellow had previously owned his desk. He stared down at the table, trying to make out other words.

There in the corner, a little diagram was drawn. He rolled his eyes, thinking it was a cheat for some test, but as he examined it closer, he noticed it was not exactly your typical diagram...

At the top was encircled the word "Tensai Hanamichi", and below it was "Sendoh", "Rukawa", and "Maki". From what he could make out, "Tensai Hanamichi" had thought himself superior to all three. And "Rukawa" at the very bottom.

A slight crease in his forehead appeared. He'd heard all four names before. But where?

Then somewhere amidst all the graffiti, there was the name "Haruko" and little hearts all around it in a deep red marker. This time Ichiro raised his eyebrows. He hastily swore to himself never to fall in love. What a fool it made one. Akiko was awfully pretty though... He shook his head hard.

Now he stared at the drawings. Right smack in the centre was drawn a little chibi character, with a shaven head, in a basketball outfit, making a slam dunk. By the side was a girl, hearts in her eyes, and a half fox, half boy being ignored by the girl. Messy arrows pointed out that the chibi was "Tensai Hanamichi", the girl was "Haruko", and the fox-boy was "Kitsune Rukawa".

He sat back, rocking his chair, thinking hard, something he didn't do too often. The table had completely sucked him in, as he sat there wondering who had owned his desk. Hanamichi. Called himself "Tensai", and not exactly modest. He seemed a very extroverted character, judging by what he did and wrote. He had a shaven head, for whatever reason. Maybe crewcut was the in-thing then.

He loved a girl called Haruko, and didn't love a boy called "Rukawa". Anything else?

His eyes scanned the table for some legible script. "DIE KITSUNE DIE" O...k... moving on... Then "Hanamichi Yohei Sauchiro Anozumi and Yuji 4ever" Then below "My Guntai" And little caricatures were made of each of the boys, whoever they were. "Yohei's" face was circled so he assumed that he was the closest friend. 

Or else it could mean he was second on "Hanamichi's" hitlist, after Kitsune Rukawa.

He thought the first would probably be right.

The bell rang. As usual he and his gang were first out of the door. 

"Oi! Coming to eat?" Yamamoto yelled at him.

"No... not today... not hungry. Need to... revise..."

Yamamoto stared at Ichiro's back. "Did I just hallucinate?" He asked the rest.

Ichiro needed to walk. His head was pounding from all that thinking. But he needed. Yes, really needed, to find out more about this Hanamichi person. God. He hoped he wasn't turning into one of those obsessive freaks.

He banged into a wall.

Not a wall. A young man.

"Oi! Watch where you're going! Idiot."

Ichiro blinked slowly. He turned to yell back, but it was in the distance he saw the retreating back. Fiery red hair, taller than average, he didn't think it was any student. He left it alone and walked past the trophy room.

There, blinking at him like some huge hint from heaven, was a trophy. Not just any trophy. A basketball championship trophy. With all the players names engraved below.

And what struck him first was the name "Sakuragi Hanamichi".

Basketball... it wasn't such a highlight of Shohoku High any longer. Once, quite a few years ago, they had been the glorious champions. And stayed that way for a 5 years.

Then things happened. He tried to recall talk. The best players all graduated, leaving in their wake only a few talented individuals, who were unable to sustain the champion's title. Then less people joined basketball, as soccer became the craze. And the final blow - the coach they had, a rather good one, he was told, died.

From then hardly anyone cared about the activity.

But those few people who had started the glorious but brief reign - some had become legends in basketball, others names remained forever, legends in their own right.

Akagi Takenori, Mitsui Hisashi, Miyagi Ryota, Rukawa Kaede, and lastly - the rather infamous Sakuragi Hanamichi.

The older teachers on rare occasions told tales about him. Mainly bad ones. About how he had made this particular vein in their foreheads permanently stick out. They called him Sakuragi, never Hanamichi.

He'd never been interested in basketball. But he still knew that Miyagi Ryota, Rukawa Kaede, Mitsui Hisashi and Sakuragi Hanamichi were big names in basketball, and that Akagi Takenori was a famous coach.

But since he'd never been interested in basketball, up til now their names had meant nothing more to him than Linear Graphs, or Pay Attention.

He sighed hard. He was slightly tired from all his Very Brilliant Detective Work. Ichiro headed to his class. 

Only someone was in his desk. That young man again.

By this time he was feeling decidedly cross.

"Get out of my seat!" He yelled. "Or I'll headbutt you."

The young man stood up to his full height, and glared menancingly at him.

"Or not." he hastily added, and went off for a bit.

The young man sighed and leant back in the chair for a while .

"Saying that to the King of Headbutts! The Tensai of all Tensai's!"

Ichiro returned after about 5 minutes, wondering if the young man was still there. He'd no idea why he'd been so frightened of that guy. Normally he was the scarer, being very much taller than average, and awfully good a fighting, if he did say so himself.

The young man was just leaving. One final menacing glare, and he left the classroom. As he walked down the empty corridor, a tune drifted back...

"Ore wa Tensai... Ore wa Tensai..."

Ichiro was suddenly struck. Then he raced to his desk.

Right there, carved very deep, stuck out the words "Join Basketball."

Ichiro raced back to the corridor, but no one was in sight.

Basketball.

Why not?

This being my last fic, I can do whatever I like :p So here's an extra long footnote.

Hopefully it wasn't too boring? Now I have to type something - there's nothing. You must review. There's something!  
Just remeber - it is only polite to review :) and sides, I'll prolly review back. 


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